The Sunday mission
by arthemys
Summary: It's all well and good to be called Sam Fisher and have the best black ops team under your command, but when you face a completely unexpected mission on a peaceful Sunday, you just hope your very long experience and skills will help you survive the day... One-shot, and takes place five years after the events of Red Smokescreen.


**A/N: Just a one-shot this time! Takes place five years after Red Smokescreen. Enjoy, and please leave a review!**

The Sunday mission

It was a beautiful summer Sunday morning, the sun was shining and the birds were chirping cheerfully in the nearby trees. Reclining on his rocking chair on the porch overlooking the country around his house, Sam Fisher was feeling great, until Grim ruined it all by telling him she had invited their family and friends.

_ What? he asked in bewilderment. You've invited everyone? Today?

_ Why not? she asked innocently. It's been a long time since we had a nice meal with all the children. And it's a beautiful day. We'll make a barbecue tonight.

_ Grim, you can't do this to me! Sam pleaded with her. I was supposed to go training with Briggs and Kestrel on some new Krav Maga moves, and...

_ So Krav Maga is more important than your own family? Grim rumbled, her eyes shooting daggers.

_ Of course it's not, Sam said, very embarrassed, but...

_ Then there's no problem, Grim cut him flatly. They'll arrive in half an hour.

She left abruptly, leaving Sam put out. He looked sullenly at his half-drunk beer, wondering what he had done to earn this. He loved his grandchildren and Briggs' daughter, that wasn't the problem. But they had come back from their latest mission a mere three days ago, and he had hoped to enjoy a calm and relaxing Sunday. Fat chance, Fisher, he thought grimly.

Grumbling inwardly, he went into the kitchen where Grim was preparing small sandwiches, and asked her:

_ Who's coming, exactly?

_ Sarah with James and Mary, Ben is working today...

_ Vic is harsh, Sam commented. Making him work on a Sunday.

_ … Briggs, Molly and Rachel, and Kestrel when his match is over. Charlie is already in Miami, he couldn't come.

_ Wonderful, Sam muttered.

He regained composure under Grim's imperious stare and decided to set the table. He put everything on their garden table, and grabbed the needed chairs. Then he opened two parasols over the table for the kids, and sighed. But soon he heard a car stopping in front of the house, followed by the delighted shouts of his grandchildren. He waited patiently, knowing the tornados would soon hit him. And thirty seconds later:

_ Grandpa Sam!

He turned towards the two five-year-old kids, a large smile on his face, and said:

_ Hello, Mary and James!

He kneeled on the ground and opened his arms, bracing himself. Two seconds later, the two kids collided violently with his chest, and he exhaled sharply. These no-remotely-little monsters were quite strong, he thought proudly as he planted a kiss on their cheek. He asked them:

_ How are you, then? You've grown since last time!

_ We're fine, Grandpa, Mary said seriously.

_ And we're tall, James added, outstretching his arm towards the blue sky.

_ That's great! Sam said. And do you know who else is coming?

_ Rachel? Mary asked hopefully.

_ Uncle Mishka? James said on the same tone.

_ Both, Sam announced, making the kids whooping happily. Rachel should be here soon, but uncle Mishka will come later in the afternoon.

_ Why? James asked, a little disappointed.

_ Because it's game day, kiddo.

_ Oh. Then I'll wait for him and play with the girls.

_ Sure, Sam said with a smile as his daughter was coming towards him.

The children ran away as Sam got to his feet, a stiffness in his right knee. Not becoming younger, Sam thought dejectedly.

_ Hi, Dad! Sarah said brightly.

_ Hi, kiddo, he smiled, kissing her cheek. So you're all by yourself today?

_ Yes, uncle Vic needed Ben for an urgent mission.

_ I'll phone him tomorrow. He's harsh.

_ But Ben gets double fee on Sundays, Sarah countered, and he wants to buy his motorbike.

_ Well, in this case...

Sam sat down at the table, Sarah sitting next to him. He hadn't time to ask anything else, as a small and blurred figure stormed towards him, followed more slowly by her parents.

_ Grandpa Sam!

_ Hi, Rachel! Sam said, letting himself get a wet kiss on the cheek. You're beautiful, as always.

_ Where are Mary and James? the cute little girl asked.

_ Over there, Sam said, indicating the back of the garden, where he had built a wooden cabin for the children.

She ran happily towards her friends who greeted her with cries of delight, and Sam rose to welcome his ops and his wife.

_ Hi, Briggs! Hi, Molly! Everything all right?

_ We're good, Sam, Briggs said, sitting next to his friend and boss. So, I assume our training will have to wait.

_ Looks like it, Sam said as Grim emerged from the kitchen, holding a platter with drinks and appetizers.

They had pre-lunch drinks, watching the children chasing one another and using the small cabin as police headquarters, making small talk. Sam was starting to think it would maybe be a not-so-bad day, when Grim said unexpectedly:

_ Well, girls, we should get going.

_ What? Sam asked, shooting her an astonished look. What do you mean? Are you going somewhere?

_ Yes, Sam, honey, she said innocently, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Don't you remember? I told you I wanted to have a nice afternoon with Sarah and Molly to go shopping. And as you hate shopping malls, I asked you yesterday if I could go today, and you told me yes. So off we go.

_ Wait! Briggs protested as the three women rose. I didn't know about it! What about the children?

_ You'll look after them, Molly told him with a brilliant smile. After all, you're two highly-trained men with exceptional skills, it should be a piece of cake. The kids are simply adorable. Just don't forget the nap after lunch.

_ And mind the fire and sharp objects, Sarah said, but I know everything's gonna be all right.

_ That's settled, then, Grim said with a beam. See you tonight.

And Sam, paralyzed with shock, could only watch as the three women waved at the children and left. Soon he heard the sound of Sarah's car fading along the dirt road, and then he looked at Briggs. His ops was obviously as much in shock as he was, but at least he was used to having a child at home. For Sam things would be more complicated, as his experience as a father backed forty years ago. He cleared his throat and said timidly:

_ Don't you have this feeling of having just been abandoned?

_ Framed, more like, Briggs grumbled. What are we going to do?

_ It won't be so hard for you, Sam said sullenly. Rachel is your daughter. How the hell will I manage the terrible twins?

_ We need help, Briggs said. Rachel! he yelled suddenly. Stay away from the barbecue!

_ James! Sam shouted. Get down that tree now!

The kids shot them an exasperated look and went on with their mischiefs. So Sam and Briggs wore themselves out yelling and running until Sam suggested they all had lunch. The children happily sat at the table, and Sam wondered what they were going to eat. But then he remembered seeing Grim making sandwiches, so he dove in the fridge and soon brought back the huge dish, piled up with the little sandwiches.

The kids quickly stuffed themselves with the food, as Sam was saying:

_ Yes, we really need help.

_ Let's call Kestrel, Briggs said, taking out his smartphone.

_ No, not yet, Sam said, looking at his OPSAT. It's game day.

_ Shit, Briggs murmured.

_ Uncle Briggs said a cuss word, Grandpa! Mary complained. He must be punished!

_ You're right, kiddo, Sam said, the corner of his mouth twitching. Uncle Briggs won't have dessert.

Briggs shot him an outraged look as around him the children giggled and messed around. Sam felt the migraine coming, and unfortunately it wasn't even 1 pm. The day would be very long indeed.

_ Isn't it half-time? Briggs asked, rather desperately.

_ 12.55, Sam read. I'll try, but if you're wrong...

Briggs didn't answer, but Sam knew what he was thinking and shuddered. If Kestrel was disturbed during the match, the consequences would be terrible. He dialed the number of his other ops and waited patiently. At the very last ringing, the line was picked up.

_ What?

Sam grimaced. Kestrel's team was probably losing. He inhaled deeply and said:

_ Hi, Kestrel! Sorry to disturb you, but...

_ Sam, you've got three minutes to say whatever it is you want to tell me, so make it quick.

_ Could you come at my place earlier than planned, at the end of your match? Please?

Kestrel stayed silent, and Sam knew he could hear the children's shouts. At long last, he heard a soft "Дa" before the line went dead. He pocketed his smartphone and saw Briggs staring at him with an apprehensive look.

_ What did he say?

_ He said yes.

_ Thank heavens!

Sam felt relieved, and so did Briggs. They had to wait for an hour and a half, then Kestrel would help them. But in the meantime...

_ Grandpa? James asked him. What is the dessert?

_ Er... Do you want an ice cream?

_ Yes!

_ Shame on you, Daddy! Rachel chimed up happily. You said a cuss word, you won't have ice cream!

Sam stifled his laughter before Briggs' put out face as he got up and fetched the ice creams. The children enjoyed the ice cream cones, staining their T-shirts and splattering their faces, until Briggs realized some wet napkins could be useful. Then Sam gave the kids permission to leave the table, and they scattered in the large garden. Sam checked his OPSAT again.

_ 1.40 pm. A little less than an hour, then we're saved.

_ We should be ashamed, Briggs murmured. I'm a father, and you a grandfather, but we call to our help a celibate guy who hasn't got any kids.

_ Kestrel has a knack with children, he attracts them like a magnet, Sam shrugged. And he's so calm and patient it's a wonder. The kids love him.

_ Lucky us, Briggs nodded. Without him...

Briggs didn't elaborate, but Sam knew what he wanted to say. He felt angry at Grim for having framed them like that, but on the other hand it was true the three women could never relax between the children and their work. They let the children play for another half-hour, then rounded up the small hurricanes for a nap in the large bedroom for guests. The kids protested, but Sam had a magical sledgehammer argument.

_ You have to sleep now, and when you wake up, uncle Mishka will be there.

_ For real? James asked, his eyes litting up.

_ Yes, Briggs confirmed solemnly. For real. But you have to sleep first, or uncle Mishka won't come.

The children went to bed straight away, and Sam and Briggs left them quietly. Five minutes later, Sam went upstairs to check on them: they were all fast asleep. Smiling, he went down and heaved a sigh, sitting heavily on his couch next to his ops.

_ How much time do we have?

_ If we're lucky, two hours, Briggs said, massaging his temples. If not, maybe one.

Sam nodded grimly, then felt his eyelids drooping. He could use a nap too. He told Briggs:

_ Wake me up in fifteen minutes.

_ Sure, Briggs said, setting the alarm on his OPSAT.

Then Sam closed his eyes, and fell asleep instantly. Seconds later, it seemed, Briggs shook his shoulder and said:

_ I hear a car. I think Kestrel's coming.

Sam rubbed his eyes and got up, sighing heavily. Then he went to the front door and opened it as Kestrel was about to knock.

_ Hello, Kestrel! Sam smiled to him. So?

_ 3-2, Kestrel said seriously. They lost with honor.

_ I'm sorry for you, sonny.

Kestrel shrugged.

_ Next time will be the right one. Where're the children?

_ Having a nap, Briggs said, entering the hall and shaking Kestrel's hand. We hope to get one quiet hour.

Kestrel smirked and Sam noticed he had a large backpack on his shoulders. The ops put it down and Sam asked him:

_ What's in the bag?

_ It's my bag of tricks, Kestrel said mysteriously.

Sam led him to the living room and they sat on the sofa and armchairs, chatting quietly.

_ So, it was the final? Briggs asked his teammate.

_ No, the semi-final, Kestrel corrected him. I'm quite disappointed they lost, but against the Paris Saint-Germain...

_ It's soccer, isn't it? Sam asked him. The Champion's League?

_ Yes. I've heard our country is looking to be more civilized on that soccer matter.

_ Says a guy who probably never touched a baseball in his whole life, Briggs snorted.

_ I take you on with ice hockey, biathlon, soccer or baseball whenever you want, Kestrel stated calmly but with an amused gleam in his eyes.

_ I leave you the first three ones, Briggs said, but we'll have a round in baseball soon.

Kestrel only smiled, and Sam was thinking it was a thing he wouldn't want to miss. Much too soon to Sam's taste, they heard the first small pair of feet coming down the stairs, and predictably James emerged, looking disheveled but excited. As soon as he saw Kestrel, he yelled happily:

_ Uncle Mishka!

_ James Samuel Woodridge, Kestrel said seriously, smiling broadly and getting up to greet his "nephew". How are you, племянник? _(nephew)_

_ Хорошо, спасибо _(fine, thanks)_ , the young boy answered carefully.

_ That's very good, Kestrel beamed at him. At this rate, when you are fifteen, you'll speak fluent Russian, and you'll teach Grandpa Sam.

_ Kestrel! Sam shot daggers at him.

_ It's uncle Mishka! James protested, putting himself in front of Kestrel and facing his scowling grandfather.

Sam just couldn't keep a straight face before the young boy, scowling like him, and he laughed softly, imitated by his two ops. And soon James smiled too, then turned towards Kestrel:

_ What are we going to do, uncle Mishka? You told me last time we would play soccer!

_ And so will we, Kestrel nodded calmly. I brought a football with me, and some nice things.

_ Can you show me?

_ We'll wait for your sister and cousin first. But I've planned something before.

_ Oh!

Sam melted before the pout of his grandson, but soon thunder resonated in the stairs, and he said:

_ I think you won't have to wait too long, kiddo.

And sure enough, the two girls stormed in the living room and threw themselves in Kestrel's outstretched arms.

_ Uncle Mishka!

_ Hi, girls!

Sam saw with emotion Kestrel grinning widely as he obeyed the wish of the girls and put them on his shoulders while starting to run around the dining table, shouting:

_ Make way for Their Highnesses! Make way!

Giggling wildly, the girls were smiling and waving while James was happily following Kestrel, imitating a bodyguard. Kestrel ran for about five minutes, then knelt carefully and laid down the girls, and asked the three children:

_ So, I have a question for you. Would you help me?

_ For what? Rachel asked curiously.

_ I've heard that you like eating cookies, Kestrel said. And I want to cook some. So, would you help me?

Delighted shouts answered him, and Sam saw Kestrel winking at him. He and Briggs followed the little band to the kitchen, and Sam suddenly wondered if there was the right ingredients in the cupboards, as he and Grim hadn't gone shopping since their return from Fourth Echelon's latest mission. But Kestrel went to fetch his backpack and dug out a large box. In it Sam saw flour, sugar, eggs, chocolate chips, all that was necessary, plus three little aprons.

Kestrel insisted the kids and adults washed their hands, then the cooking started. Kestrel and James made the dough, then Sam and Mary shaped the cookies. Briggs and Rachel were putting the chocolate chips on them, and soon the cookies were in the oven. Laughter was ringing in the room, and Sam felt good. It was a very good idea, cooking with children, he thought, and shot a grateful smile at Kestrel.

While the cookies were baking, Kestrel cleaned the table and answered the children's questions, under Sam's and Briggs' amused stare.

_ When is your birthday, uncle Mishka? James asked him.

_ On the 7th of August, he replied calmly.

_ That's in three months! Rachel squeaked in excitement. Will you organize a party?

_ No, Kestrel smiled. I'm too old for birthday parties.

_ How old are you? Mary asked, frowning.

_ I'm thirty-eight.

_ Oh! That's old indeed! Mary exclaimed, eyes widened.

Kestrel shot an ironic look at Sam, and the Splinter Cell shot him silent daggers, daring him to speak about his sixty-four years. But wisely Kestrel bit back his comment, only smirking. Next to him Briggs stifled his laughter, and Sam nudged him. But James was focused on his "uncle", with whom he had a very special relation since Kestrel saved his life with a bone marrow transplant when he was a baby.

_ Where were you born, uncle Mishka? In Baltimore?

_ No, in Novgorod. It's in Russia.

_ You're not American? Rachel asked him, puzzled.

_ Yes, I am, but I was born in another country.

_ Why have you changed, then? Mary asked him curiously.

Sam saw a fugitive sadness in Kestrel's eyes, but the ops answered calmly:

_ Because America is a better country.

The children looked impressed, and Kestrel took out the cookies. He put them on a plate to cool down, but the kids were impatient, so he gave them one and they ate it with caution, cheeks hot and puffing a lot. Then they all had a large glass of apple juice, and James asked:

_ Now will we play soccer?

_ Yes, Kestrel nodded. But I've got something to show you first.

He dug in his backpack, surrounded by the curious children, and explained:

_ Real soccer players wear jerseys, so I have jerseys for you.

He extracted small blue jerseys and checked the backs. Sam, moved, saw that Kestrel had had them flocked with the children's names and favourite numbers. Briggs asked him:

_ Which club is it? Not DC United, I suppose.

Kestrel shook his head in exasperation and turned towards the children who were taking out their T-shirts and putting on the jerseys.

_ Children, tell Daddy and uncle Briggs which club uncle Mishka supports, please.

_ The Saint Petersburg Zenit, they chorused happily, making Sam smile before Briggs' shameful expression.

_ Right, Kestrel said, taking a football from his backpack who finally looked empty. Let's play.

Sam led the band to the garden, where some chairs made goalposts, and soon the game started. Sam awfully sucked at soccer, like Briggs, but they had a great time with the delighted children. Kestrel, he noticed, really enjoyed playing soccer, and taught the rules to the kids who soon overpowered the poor sweating grandfather.

After a good hour playing, the three men let the children play on their own and went to sit at the table where Sam soon brought in fresh beers and soda with the plate of cookies. The kids regularly went to dig in the cookies, and Sam ate one before it was too late. It was delicious.

_ Thanks a lot, Kestrel, he said gratefully to his ops. I don't know how we would've managed without you.

_ My pleasure, Kestrel said earnestly.

_ Thanks for the jersey, mate, Briggs told him. That's really nice of you, and Rachel obviously loves it.

_ Sorry it's not an American team, Kestrel said in a not-so-sorry voice, but I couldn't buy something from another team than my old favourite club.

_ It's fine, Briggs said with a smile.

They sipped their drinks, watching the children dribbling and shooting, passing the football and laughing their heads off. Sam was having a great moment, even when James shot the football straight on his hand, making his glass shatter and he stained with beer. But the poor boy looked on the verge of tears, so he hugged him tightly and reassured him before fetching another polo shirt.

And soon they heard a car coming and stopping. Sam checked his OPSAT with an incredulous look, but it was 6.45 pm. The afternoon had passed in a blur. And when Grim, Sarah and Molly reached the garden, the children ran to them, showing their jerseys and the football. The women looked impressed, and Sam saw they were smiling and looking relaxed. Grim looked more beautiful than ever, and his heart leapt with emotion and joy when she leaned over him and kissed him.

_ So, ladies? Briggs asked them when they sat at the table after saying hello to Kestrel, watching the kids resuming their soccer game. How did it go?

_ It was great, Molly told him after kissing him. We went to the Mall of America, bought some clothes, and had a great time. You?

_ Had a great time, too. We made cookies and played soccer.

_ Thanks a lot, Kestrel, Sarah said, suppressing a smile. And thanks for the jerseys.

_ Don't mention it, the ops said calmly.

Another car approached, and Sarah said before Sam's puzzled expression:

_ It's Ben, he has finished. And uncle Vic is with him.

Sam smiled widely and got up to greet his son-in-law, then embraced his old friend.

_ Vic, it's good to see you! It's been too long!

_ Yeah, but when Grim told me about a barbecue, I just couldn't resist.

Sam sat down and looked around him. All his family and friends, except Charlie, as Grim had told him that morning. But this time, he was glad to have them next to him.

Ben and Briggs started the barbecue fire as Kestrel accepted the children's request to play soccer again, the women disappeared in the kitchen, so Sam and Vic had time to chat. But soon the meat was on the fire, salads and drinks were on the table, and everybody gathered for dinner. Sam enjoyed it, like all the people around him, he could tell, as conversations were flying in the still hot evening.

_ What are you up to, these days? Vic was asking Grim.

_ We've just finished a mission, she answered him, now we're on holidays. Two weeks, I hope.

_ You're always on holidays, he said, winking at Sam. Whereas some people work, like Ben and me.

_ Very funny, Victor, Grim pretended to grumble, but with a smile.

On his other side, Molly and Sarah were asking Kestrel questions about the children:

_ Don't you think the twins have grown a lot in a short amount of time?

_ They certainly have, the ops nodded. They're so cute.

_ Have you got any problem with them this afternoon? Molly asked.

_ Not one since I arrived.

_ I bet Sam and Isaac phoned you as soon as we left, she smirked. They looked panic-stricken.

_ We waited a little, Sam intervened calmly. It was game day.

The women smirked in triumph, and Sam realized he had walked head-first into their trap, as Vic asked him:

_ What's game day?

_ It's when Kestrel's soccer team has an important match, Briggs explained. During the match, we can't phone him or disturb him in any way. If we do, then he makes us pay.

Sam saw Kestrel shooting him an amused look, and added:

_ The last time it happened, it was two weeks ago, for the final of the Cup of Russia. We were off-duty, but I had a call from the President, asking us to escort a senator to Ottawa for an emergency. When I phoned Kestrel, he didn't protest. But when we went back to Baltimore, a taxi was waiting for us. Kestrel told us to climb in, and he had his cold stare on, so we did what we were told. The taxi dropped us in front of a bar, full to bursting with Russian supporters, and we had to watch the replay of the final among crazy Russian hooligans, then stay until the bar closed for the night. A wonderful evening, he added disgruntedly.

Everybody laughed, even Kestrel. The kids laughed too, even if they didn't understand why, and soon their mothers gave them dessert and told them to go to sleep, rising from their chair. The children, although looking exhausted, clustered around Kestrel and asked him seriously:

_ If we have to go to bed, then tell us a story, uncle Mishka, please!

_ Yes, please!

_ Please!

_ But I don't know American stories, Kestrel said calmly. The ones I know are in Russian, you won't understand them.

_ It doesn't matter! James said, taking Kestrel's hand firmly. Tell us, uncle Mishka!

Sam saw Kestrel sighing lightly, then nodded.

_ Okay, Дети. _(Children)_

He got up and followed the small troop inside, and Sam said, getting to his feet:

_ I don't want to miss it.

_ Right behind you, Briggs smirked, getting up too.

The two of them tiptoed to the second floor and hid themselves in Sam's bedroom, listening to the children talking with Sarah and Molly, wishing them a good night. Then the women went downstairs and Sam heard Kestrel saying calmly:

_ So it's a story about a young woman who's in love with a soldier. That soldier is away for a war, and the woman is waiting for him. He had written her letters, but she sings near a river, telling a passing eagle to go and see the man she loves, and tell him to protect his land and save their love.

And Sam heard Kestrel starting to sing softly in Russian. He soon recognized the traditional song Katyusha, and Kestrel had a beautiful baritone voice. But Sam also heard something else, a particular emotion in the singing, like a message. And Sam, exchanging a meaningful look with Briggs, knew that the ops was singing to his lost love, Alpha, dead since many years ago but still in Kestrel's heart.

Emotion squeezed his heart, but he slipped quietly out of the room, Briggs on his heels, and went outside. The family was waiting for them to eat dessert, and Ben asked:

_ So, what story is Kestrel telling?

But Sam couldn't answer, and apparently neither could Briggs. All the people around the table looked puzzled and vaguely concerned, but at last Sam managed to say with a small voice:

_ He's singing Katyusha.

Silence fell on the table, but it was an understanding one. And when Kestrel came back a few minutes later, poker face on, nobody asked him anything about his red eyes. Then Sam raised his glass of wine and toasted:

_ To family and dear friends!

And as everybody around him toasted and sipped their drinks, Sam felt true peace and happiness in his heart. This Sunday had been a very good day, after all.


End file.
